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A Mercy After

Atakti 12 Mar 2017 Tag: Dark 1 comments, leave your own..

Death is a woman.
She cuts from the cloth of time
the shroud of kings and waits
counting each grain, each day
the last one falls.

Hourglass curves flow,
a granular avalanche.
Whose eyes watch them?

While steel blades swing
and ropes bind and pull,
men roar, the blood pours —
the life sparks are dulled
to sand.
The last grain falls.

Soft tumbles 
into triple weaves.
Whose hands wove them?

Words: 71 / Updated: 12 Mar 2017 / © Copyright August 2014

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1 Recent Comments

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ButcherBenji 1 year, 3 months ago New Comment

I work with a buncha DUDES and lemme tell ya: I miss intellectual conversation sometimes. These are American males, in other words, intelligence + sensitivity = weakness. Too much male conversation can be fairly harmful to your mental health. I swear if man had thought better of the society he was trying to build he would have made sure the woman was in charge (and I believe she is in many cases). The insecurity of the human male has brought us to this point in our history and it's the human female that will play a key role in bringing the species back to where we belong. As long as we men have you women to catch & check us with your weavings & leavings, we'll be unstoppable. Excellent piece, thank you :)

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